


What If Tomorrow Comes?

by Watterdrop



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Human, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders Are Siblings, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Has Heterochromia, Black Friday, Black Friday AU, Black Friday Spoilers, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Dolls, Insecure Morality | Patton Sanders, Kid Logic | Logan Sanders, Minor Character Death, Missing Persons, Multi, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trans Male Morality | Patton Sanders, Trans Morality | Patton Sanders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26016508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watterdrop/pseuds/Watterdrop
Summary: It's Black Friday, the worst shopping day of the year. People are constantly fighting over the last toy, and injuries are as common as suburban moms.But no one would kill for that toy...right?(A Black Friday AU, though you don’t have to know it to understand)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	1. Last May- Remus

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this in my head for a while now, so I thought I'd share. You probably don't need to watch Black Friday to understand this; at least, that's my goal. This fic is somewhere between the "these characters exist in the same universe at the same time as the original story" and the "the characters from the original story are replaced by these ones" type of AU.

_Free._

Remus had never felt so free in his life.

The wind brushed the gray streak of hair out of his face as he watched the lake ripple against the ferry. The sky was dark and cloudy, and Remus took a deep breath of the sticky, humid air. He grinned.

_Free._

He was 18 years old with a high school diploma, and no college applications in sight. It wasn’t as if he cared, though. He could be homeless, starving on the streets, and he would still be happy. Happy to escape his parents. Happy to escape New York City. Happy to escape the shadow of his twin brother. Not happy to leave his brother, the damn child star. Maybe he could still write Roman a letter.

Now there’s an idea. He would write Roman a letter as soon as they reached the island. He wouldn’t call; his parents would demand Roman hand over the phone, and that was the last thing he wanted. No, he would write a letter the old fashioned way.

The ferry horn bellowed as they began to slow. Remus smiled, wider this time. His new start was nearly here. He just had to get off the ferry, get a job, and find a place to live, not necessarily in that order. Actually, that vision homelessness doesn’t look too out of reach. Though, that’s what his parents expected of him, so maybe getting a house should be at the top of the list.

That doesn’t matter. Here, he can escape the voice in his head.

And if he escaped the voice, then he could escape the people in black clothes and dark sunglasses. They had been following almost as long as he had been hearing the voice.

Remus watched as the island grew, the sign on the shore readable at last.

 _Welcome,_ he thought to himself, _to Hatchetfield._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a bit of a prologue, but I won't call it that because then the numbers get wayyy too confusing for me. Hope you enjoyed!


	2. 6:04 AM- Logan

“Babysitting again today, Virgil?”

Logan grimaced, burrowing deeper into the beaten up couch in the break room. He buried his nose into his book on Norse mythology, trying to ignore the other two people in the room. His eyes only skimmed over the page, however, as Virgil answered.

“My dad’s getting our Christmas presents somewhere else in the mall, so I offered to bring him to work with me.” Virgil shrugged on his hoodie over his uniform. “I figured it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Not at all!” exclaimed his coworker and acting-manager, Emile. He leaned down to catch Logan’s gaze over the book. Logan rolled his eyes, folded the page down, and glared at Virgil. Nonetheless, Emile addressed him now. “I bet you’re super excited to spend your first Christmas in Hatchetfield!” he gushed. 

Logan ignored him, still staring daggers at Virgil. He adjusted his glasses, and sat perfectly still. Eventually, Emile retreated, looking sheepish.

“I should go ahead and open the ticket booth. Are you all good with the concessions?”

Virgil nodded. “I’ve done it a million times before,” he reminded his coworker. Emile nodded, patting Virgil on the shoulder as he left the room.

Logan immediately slumped. “Is it really so much to ask that I can read my book in peace?” he scoffed. “Surely you cannot stand that man’s...” he thought for a moment before saying, “vibes?”

“As much as I appreciate that you’re using the vocab cards I gave you,” Virgil said calmly, “I  _ do  _ need to keep this job. Dad’s got it hard enough as it is.”

“He’s picking up extra shifts at the hospital.”

“Exactly.”

Logan crossed his arms. “Why couldn’t I just wait at home? I already spend on average two hours and nine minutes home alone before you are released from school.”

Virgil sighed, falling onto the couch. “Yes, I know, middle school gets out earlier than high school. You know, complaining about that is usually my job.” He ran a hand through his dyed purple hair.

This much was true. Virgil spent nearly every morning groaning on and on about how much earlier Logan got to go home than he did. Eventually, he would drive them both to school while their adoptive father went to work. Logan had stopped pointing out that his school also started earlier than Virgil’s several months ago. Patton always had morning shifts, so Virgil drove him to school in his own car he had gotten for his 17th birthday. Logan almost always walked home though, unless Patton had a day off to spend with his sons.

“Hey.” Virgil gently tapped his shoulder. “A new movie came out today. I can sneak you into the theater if you want to see it.”

Logan paused. “What if the theater’s full?” he asked, already picking up his book to continue reading.

“It won’t be; nobody has time to go today. Emile will probably let us leave before lunch.”

“Hmm.” Logan considered this. “What’s the movie called?”

Virgil smirked. “ _ Santa Claus is Going to High School _ or something,” he answered.

Logan blinked, momentarily taken aback by the cheesy title. Finally, he said, “I guess the premise is all in the name, then.”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, it sounds pretty lame. I just...don’t want to leave you alone back here.”

“You would leave me alone in the theater.”

Virgil shot him finger guns, clicking his tongue. “You got me there.” He gave a brief smile before forcefully pulling Logan into his arms. 

Now this was something that didn’t happen very often. Virgil usually disliked showing affection through touch. This probably meant something was on his mind. Logan leaned into the hug, his book pressed between them. Hopefully Virgil would tell him what he was thinking about on his own.

“Logan,” Virgil began, and Logan knew this was the case. He rested his hands on Virgil’s back and let him continue. “I just want to make sure you know...even though you haven’t been a part of our family for very long, you’re...you’re still my brother. I care about you. And I know he hasn’t been around lately, but Dad‒  _ Patton _ does too. He’s taking those extra shifts so that he can spend all 12 days of Christmas fawning over us.” Virgil let out a snort, but Logan simply shot him a confused look.

Virgil released him, ruffling his hair as if nothing had happened. “I keep forgetting it’s been less than a year. It really feels like you’ve always been a part of my life.”

Logan noticed he didn’t say “our lives,” like he usually did when talking about their family. He intentionally left Patton out, which Logan was grateful for in this moment. Patton was still a bit too...intense for his liking.

Virgil seemed to read his mind, as he laughed and said, “He gets  _ so  _ much worse during the holiday season.”

“Worse than when he sees a lost puppy and asks us if we can keep it?”

“Way worse. I’m honestly nervous you’ll be scared of him by New Years. I nearly was after my first Christmas with him.”

“How bad is he, specifically? What does he do?”

Virgil sighed and started to count on his fingers. “He gets, like, three advent calendars for us each. He bakes for a week straight, and all of it ends up being holiday themed. He plays holiday films on repeat. Oh, and the  _ stockings _ .”

“The stockings?” Logan asked.

“He full-on  _ knits  _ a new one every year.” Virgil explained. “It takes him months; he’s already finished with yours, probably.”

Logan felt some soft emotion rise up inside of him. He didn’t know what it was, but it felt both tight and warm, like one of Patton’s hugs. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not, so he filed it away for later. He turned the conversation around.

“Maybe I can prepare for those movies by watching this one?” Logan offered. “So I can become acquainted with the genre of, for lack of a better term, bad Christmas movies?”

Virgil grinned. “I’ll get you some popcorn,” he insisted as he got up and moved toward the concession counter. “You want some chocolate too?”

“Sneaking into the theater without a ticket is criminal enough without stealing concessions as well,” Logan argued, but Virgil had already grabbed a box of chocolates. He threw it onto the couch, turning back through the door. Logan grabbed the box and held it, along with his book, close to his chest. As much as he and his older brother disagreed on whether or not stealing from one’s own workplace was acceptable, he did enjoy the sweet taste of chocolate, particularly when paired with mint.

Logan heard the popcorn machine start up as Virgil called out, “You can’t watch a movie at the theater without popcorn! That’s the true crime.”

“Are you sure Emile won’t mind?”

“As much as you wish he didn’t, Emile thinks you’re the cutest 11-year-old in Hatchetfield,” Virgil shouted again. “You being here is probably the only reason I still have a job.”

“I highly doubt my presence is a factor in your continued employment,” Logan grumbled, though he was sure Virgil couldn’t hear him. He shuffled awkwardly towards the door. “But...what about the other customers?”

Virgil gave him an incredulous look and gestured to the empty lobby. “What customers?” he asked. “We open in, like, ten minutes already.” He scooped up some of the popcorn into a large bucket. “It's like I said,” he continued as he handed it to Logan.

“Nothing ever happens at the Lakeside Mall Cineplex on Black Friday.”


	3. 6:12 AM- Janus

Janus shivered, zipping up his ratty coat in the late fall wind.  _ Shit _ , he thought to himself as he locked up his bike. He was already late; he had meant to get to the mall two hours early. Instead, he overslept, and when he finally did pull himself out of bed, he had twisted his ankle on the trailer steps. Nothing serious, but very painful in the moment. It took him nearly 20 minutes to feel well enough to ride his bike. Now, it was 6:12, which meant he had just over 45 minutes until the store opened. 

He quickly checked his wallet. Half of it was dedicated to the exact amount he planned to spend, and the other half for any spare cash he had. The latter section was, unfortunately, rather sparse. He sighed, closed his wallet, and ran as best as he could with one good ankle. 

The mall had opened its doors early for Black Friday so that lines could form around the still closed shops. He just had to find the right line. 

As soon as Janus stepped through the glass doors, his attention was caught by one of the longest lines he had ever seen in his life. He couldn’t see the end of it, but people stretched past Nordstrom in single file and curved around a corner. He couldn’t see where the line began. A tight feeling sunk into his gut, but he pushed it away. The store he was looking for was on the opposite side of the mall. This couldn’t be the line he needed...right?

He continued through the mall, his uneasiness swelling. Finally, he turned the last corner….

_ Shit. _

The huge line originated in front of Toy Zone.

_ No, no, fuck, no! _

Frantically, Janus looked around the line, seeing if he could cut in front of anyone without them noticing, but there were no gaps. He opened his wallet again, hastily grabbed the extra change, and hurried over to someone near the front of the line.

“Excuse me!” He yelled as loud as he dared, running forward. “I have eleven—“

At that moment, his ankle gave out underneath him. He stumbled, tripping over his own feet. The damn ankle cramped suddenly, and he braced himself to meet the floor.

But the impact never came. 

Janus blinked,his face inches from the floor. A pair of arms were gripping his shoulders, and he could see their owner’s shoes (light blue converse, very nice) just in front of him.

“Are you alright?” asked the person in front of him, and  _ oh God. _ Janus knew that voice

He took a deep breath and braced his hands against the ground. The arms holding him up let go suddenly. Janus steeled his face. Finally, he slowly looked up. He saw above the converse were light blue scrub pants, then a half zipped light gray jacket, and, finally, blue eyes framed by round glasses and curly blond hair.

Patton Sanders. 

The first time Janus had seen Patton Sanders, he didn’t get his name. He had been forced by his dad to “get out more” and go to the football game between his high school, Sycamore, and the only other high school in town, Hatchetfield High. He had been sitting in the bleachers, shivering in the cold, bored out of his mind. He had just been about to call it quits and go home when a gray cardigan was placed over his shoulders. He had looked up to see the same bright eyes behind round glasses, long blond hair pulled into a ponytail, and a small frame. Janus could not look away from the girl in front of him. He was instantly taken with the kindness of just one person he didn’t even know. 

That was the first, and only, girl Janus had ever taken interest in. Or so he thought. 

The second time Janus had seen Patton, he had actually been able to form words. By then, Patton had turned 18, moved out of his parent’s house, and come out as transgender to basically all of Hatchetfield.  _ Everyone _ knew of Patton Sanders. Janus had finally picked up the courage to attend another football game and return the cardigan. They had actually had a short conversation in which Janus introduced himself, and Patton to him. However, he had bailed the conversation as soon as he could. Janus already had known he was gay, he just didn’t realize how much of a  _ gay disaster _ he was until that conversation.

Since then, Janus hadn’t spoken to Patton Sanders much. He had seen him around, though; at grocery stores, coffee shops, even at this mall. He knew Patton had never gotten married, never left Hatchetfield except for when he went to medical school, never spoken to his parents since they moved to Clivesdale years ago. He knew that Patton had adopted two sons, though he had never gotten a good look at either of them. 

In short, Janus was intrigued by Patton Sanders. Well, maybe  _ obsessed  _ was a better word. 

“Are you hurt at all?” You took quite the tumble there,” Patton said, pulling Janus out of his own head. He still had a concerned look on his face. Janus tore his gaze away from Patton’s eyes, still so bright and blue and those signature round glasses. Slowly, he pushed himself off the floor. 

“Perfectly alright,” he grunted. He shoved the cash back into his wallet. He simply could not buy Patton’s spot. 

But he didn’t have to. Patton gripped his shoulder, muttering about scraped knees and bandaids, and steered Janus into the line. Not just anywhere either; Janus found himself in  _ front  _ of Patton.

This,  _ this _ was why Janus was basically obsessed with Patton Sanders. He was too kind for his own good. Just now, here he was, giving up his spot in line for a stranger. No, that wasn’t true. Janus wasn’t a stranger to anybody, let alone to Patton. No one could forget the face of someone with such severe burn scars. 

“I’ve got some extra bandages around here somewhere.” Patton dug into the pockets of his scrubs, pulling it a handful of Bandaids. He grabbed Janus’s hand and—oh. 

He grabbed Janus’s hand. 

Patton Sanders was holding his bare hand. 

_ Oh fuck.  _

Janus had forgotten to put his gloves on that morning in the havoc. They were in his pocket right now, their weight now pulling him down and away from Patton’s warmth. 

Patton’s fingers grazed on the edge of a particularly large burn on the back of his hand. Janus could feel his palms getting clammy as Patton turned over his hands. Seemingly satisfied, Patton let go of his hand, and Janus hastily pulled his winter gloves out of his pocket and put them on. If Patton noticed or minded, he couldn’t tell. 

“No scrapes on your hands; any on your knees?” Patton knelt over, but Janus shuffled away. Patton did seem to understand his discomfort this time and backed off.

There was a very long, painful silence. Janus cleared his throat. Patton shuffled a bit. 

Finally, Patton asked, “So, what brings you to Toy Zone?”

Oh no. They were starting to get into uncomfortable small talk, something he despised. At least it was small talk with Patton. “I’m getting one of those dolls. The Tickle-Me-Wiggly?” 

Patton gasped. “So am I! I’m getting one for my younger kid, Logan. I just know he’s going to love it!” 

Ok, this was a good topic. Patton would keep talking about his kids. Now, Janus could be unhealthily obsessed with Patton in peace. 

Or so he thought. 

“Why are you getting a Tickle-Me-Wiggly?”

Janus gulped. He couldn’t tell Patton the truth; that he was going to sell the doll online for an outrageously high price. Then, Patton would be disappointed that he’d given up his spot to someone selfish, and Janus could not handle a disappointed Patton face today. 

“I’m...donating it,” Janus lied. “I figured some kids would love to have one for Christmas. You know, for those who can’t afford one.” He tugged on his gloves nervously. “It is rather expensive.”

“That’s so sweet!” The look on Patton’s face made the lump in his throat worth it. The other man was beaming at him, blue eyes shining. Janus smiled back softly. 

“I just wish some people could have pre-ordered them. I personally think Toy Zone’s first-come-first-serve policy is  _ entirely  _ fair to the community, especially considering how... _ unpopular  _ it is.”

Patton looked confused for a moment, and Janus feared the worst. He shouldn’t have been so careless with his sarcasm; it had probably gone right over his head. He was surprised, however, when Patton giggled, and Janus felt his heart soar. His grinned widened as Patton’s face scrunched up in the corners. 

_ Not now,  _ he thought.  _ Be still, my gay heart. _

He looked down to check his watch. 6:55 AM. Five more minutes until the store opened. 

He could keep his cool in front of the beautiful, kind man that was Patton Sanders for five more minutes, right?


	4. 6:48 AM- Roman

  
Jesus Christ Superstar, Roman despised Black Friday.

He had been working at Toy Zone in the Lakeside Mall for a year and a half now, and just the same as the previous year, he was scheduled to work on the worst shopping day of the year. Even worse, this year there was this new stupid toy that everyone was trying to get their hands on. He hadn’t seen it yet; he barely even knew its name, but he knew it was a hit with customers. Something about tickling monsters….

Joan, his manager, was outside, collecting the stock of the Tickle-whatever for the sale today. Roman was a bit curious. What could possibly be so intriguing as to have the entire nation dying to get their hands on it? He thought it might be a doll, but what made this doll so special?

_Let there be no doubt,_ he thought, _today is going to be hell on Earth._

He wished he could be anywhere else. Well, maybe only a few places. On stage, in bed, maybe in the Cineplex.

Now _that_ would be infinitely better, especially with that cute cashier with the purple hair he had been flirting with for months now. Not that he had ever had an actual conversation with the cashier. They just swapped playful banter and popcorn sometimes. Roman didn’t even know anything substantial about him! Like his name! His hoodie always covered his name tag, so Roman made do with nicknames. That’s how he spent most of his time when off of work: coming up with nicknames for his Paramore. (see! And that one was even a dad joke!)

Well, that and thinking about his brother.

Roman pushed the thought out of his head. Remus hadn’t shown up in over a year. Either he was dead, or he didn’t want to be found. And even Roman couldn’t locate Remus when he didn’t want to be found. So what if Roman had moved away from his life’s work to follow Remus’s trail? Remus would do as Remus pleased, and there was nothing Roman could do about it.

10 minutes until they open.

He checked his watch. If this doll was so popular, why was Joan taking so long? Roman knew enough about the common consumers to know that they didn’t like it when the store was out of stock.

Just then, Joan walked in, wearing their trademark orange beanie and pushing a huge box into the main store. Roman sighed with relief.

“Finally,” he groaned, rushing over to help them with the box. It was almost as tall as them, and so heavy that Joan was wheeling it in on a large cart. A giant green stamp decorated the side: Uncle Dukey’s Toys Corp.

“That has got to be the worst name for a toy company.”

“What, Uncle Dukey? I think it’s fitting.” Joan laughed, pulling open the box. “The guy who handed them over was _definitely_ a Dukey.”

**_Who was the guy handing them over?_ **

Roman shook his head, clearing the question from his mind. It wasn’t his business. “So what do they look like? These...Tickle-Me-Something’s?”

“It’s a Tickle-Me Wiggly. Here, take a look.”

Joan reached into the box and pulled out a vibrant green doll. It’s eyes were yellow, big, and bulgy, surrounded by a darker green fur. There were tentacles emerging from its mouth area, and more coming from his hands. Not to mention the weird freckle-like spots on its face. There was another patch of dark green on its stomach; a shade that did not flatter the yellow green of the rest of its body.

All in all, it was fairly ugly.

_Remus would love this._

Hell, now that he was looking at it longer, the only thing he could think of was how much Remus would love to have one of these dolls. Remus would have done anything for one of those dolls. He’d think it was cute. And we wouldn’t be exactly wrong. Maybe if he had one, Remus would—

_Stop it, Roman._ He tore his gaze away from the doll and to the shelf, taking the doll and standing it up. _Remus wouldn't come back for a doll. That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever thought._

“Some of them are going on the shelf, but there will also be some at the checkout counter.” Joan handed over another doll, and Roman made sure not to look directly into its very ugly eyes. “There’s no way we’re keeping any in the back.”

“There’s 850 dolls. Are we going to sell them all in just one day?”

“There’s at least a thousand people waiting outside, all for this special little guy.” Joan held up yet another doll, gazing at it like an elusive and mysterious treasure. Surprisingly similar to how they had looked when Roman had shown them his Broadway Playbill collection: Ignorant, but impressed. “Maybe I’ll keep one in the back. For me.”

“Whatever,” Roman chuckled. The shelf was nearly full now, and they were supposed to open in less than five minutes. “I’ll take these to the register. Hopefully Sherman isn’t in line.”

“He’s the first customer.”

“Fuck!”

Joan smirked. “As long as you don’t say ‘fuck’ in front of the customers, I don’t mind.”

“I can’t believe no one else showed up to help with this hell. The stagedoor crowd was more respectful than those ‘Karen’s’ and ‘Linda’s.’”

“You say that like you’ve been stagedooring on Broadway.”

“I have!” Roman huffed indignantly. “I’ve been on and off Broadway since I could sing. Which, by the way, was before I could talk.”

Now it was Joan’s turn to sigh, “Whatever,” as they wheeled the empty box back into the stock room. When they returned, they held one of the tickle dolls. “I’m keeping this guy in the back. I’ll take him home with me.”

“What’s so special about them?” Roman asked, checking his nails to distract him from having to actually open the store.

“Apparently, they talk,” Joan said.

“How?” Roman hadn’t seen any buttons, strings, wind-up keys, or anything like that on the dolls.

“Hell if I know.” Joan held the doll up. “Hey there, Wiggly!” they told the doll.

_“Tickle my belly-well!”_ cried a strained voice from the toy. Joan moved their fingers over the doll's darker stomach. A dry, wretched sound came from deep within the doll, a choking noise that Roman realized was a laugh. _“That tickles!”_

“That’s creepier than Sherman’s whole demeanor,” admitted Roman, sheepish.

Joan simply shrugged. “I kinda like it.” They grinned. “Ready to face the masses?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Roman sighed. “Let’s open the doors.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that bolded thought? That’s not a typo, in case you were confused. Don’t worry though, it’ll get explained...eventually.


	5. 7:00 AM- Roman/Virgil/Patton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Virgil and Patton didn't get their own chapter before this, but I couldn't wait for the action to start! Also, that minor character death tag? That's happening in this chapter. You may want to skip Virgil's section if that bothers you.

_ I might need to see a therapist after this. _

But this is what he got for being a model employee and actually showing up to work on the worst shopping day of the year. 

“Thank you all very much for your generosity. Your donations are gladly accepted. Good morning!”

As soon as the doors opened, Roman found himself surrounded by a swarm of people, all making grabby hands for the Tickle-Me-Wiggly dolls lining the shelves. One man (damn, it was Sherman) was pushing others over to get as many dolls as he could. 

Roman looked to the other side of the store. It was empty of people. He turned back to the crowd.  _ They are just demolishing those toys,  _ he thought. 

Joan also seemed to be overwhelmed as they guarded the back door, where customers were filing in to get to the doll. They shot a surprised look at Roman, but he just sighed. 

Just a normal Black Friday—

A scream erupted from the crowd as more people pushed through the doors of the store. Roman jumped, expecting the crowd to part for whoever was injured, but they just seemed to swarm more intensely than before. Roman thought he even saw blood on one of the many hands that reached up and towards the dolls. 

Roman shot another look at Joan. They needed to do something, and fast. 

Joan slowly, nervously, began to step towards the animalistic crowd. The group didn’t seem to notice them, thankfully, as they abandoned the staff door. They took in a deep breath, and Roman held it with them. He felt on the verge of a panic attack

“Hey!” they shouted over the noise. The crowd raged on anyways. Roman backed away. There wasn’t a PA system in the store, so the two of them always shouted announcements. Joan seemed to be doing something like that now, though why they were getting in the middle of angry customers, Roman could not fathom.

“We’re limiting how many dolls each person can purchase.”

The mob went eerily silent. Roman could hear the blood rushing in his ears, his heart beating far too fast and loud, he bet everyone else in the store could feel it too. Joan gulped, wringing their hands.

“One doll per person.”

The silence persisted for another beat, though it felt like an eternity. 

Suddenly, the crowd surged forward, a mess of hands reaching out for Joan. They disappeared into the mass of people, their voice drowned out in a ferocious roar. 

So Roman was  _ definitely  _ having a panic attack now. 

There was a path to the staff room, and Roman rushed to it, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. He didn’t want to leave Joan alone out there, but there was no way in hell he would survive another minute out there. Last year, he was scheduled to work on Black Friday, but it was nothing like this. These people were crazy, more crazy than normal. They were acting like wild animals. 

Breath in for four...hold for seven...out for eight.

Once his breathing evened out, he slid to the floor, exhausted. He had to go back out there to save Joan. They were probably getting killed out there.

Roman blinked his eyes open, staring out into the room. He could still hear the crowd through the door, but his eyes caught on something green and fuzzy. 

Joan’s Wiggly Doll.

**_Take it and run._ **

The impulse came over him instantly, and before he knew it, he was holding the ugly tentacle monster. He stared at it again in disbelief. How had he ever thought this thing was desirable? The eyes on the doll looked wide and bloodshot, and seemed to stare into his soul. He shivered. 

_ Well, if they want a Tickle-Me-Wiggly, they can come and get a Tickle-Me-Wiggly. _

With that, Roman shoved the toy into his backpack and darted back into the store.

* * *

  
  


Virgil lay slumped against the counter, tapping lazily on his phone. It was the only reason he agreed to work today; he’d get paid time and a half for working on a holiday, but no one would be around to make sure he was  _ actually  _ working. 

That did not mean, however, that he didn’t want to just go home, eat leftover turkey, and pass out on the couch in between his dad and Logan while watching The Nightmare Before Christmas again. Granted, they had just watched the movie less than a month ago for Halloween, but it was a Christmas movie too, after all. 

He scrolled through his phone some more. That was part of the reason he had sent Logan to watch a movie while they waited for his shift to end: Logan would pester him nonstop if he realized that Virgil was slacking off. It didn’t matter to Virgil; he was just doing it for the extra cash. It made sense to him. His dad was single with now two children, and even working as a nurse wasn’t quite enough to sustain their lifestyle without him missing significant moments in his son's lives. 

A muffled sound came from the front doors, and Virgil jerked upright. Emile would surely give him a disappointed stare if he was caught on his phone at work.

But Emile didn’t make an appearance. 

Instead, a blur of red bolted into the large foyer, straight for the counter. Virgil blinked, but the blur just kept running towards him. He backed away from the counter. “Um, can I help–” 

The figure made a flying jump over the counter and ducked behind the glass case of candy. Virgil, surprised and possibly on the verge of a panic attack, slammed himself into the back wall away from them.

Now they were still, he could recognize the person. Brown hair, normally styled and swooped perfectly, was now mussed, his dark eyes wide with terror. 

_ Ah Damn. _

It was the insanely annoying, persistent, stuck up cashier from the toy store. 

Virgil stared in disbelief. This man was the one who constantly tormented him with awful puns and bad Disney references. This man was the one who once, out of nowhere, claimed he could get tickets to any major Broadway show because he “knew the right people.” This man was the one who could  _ never _ stop talking.

And now, this same man, with pleading wide hazel eyes, was desperately motioning for him to duck down while holding a finger to his lips. 

As soon as he regained his breath, Virgil obeyed, dropping flat to the ground. He listened. There were voices outside. 

The other boy’s face was filled with dread. He mouthed something, but Virgil couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say. Finally, he made a twisting motion with his hands and pointed to the front door across the lobby. 

They both turned to stare at the door. The voices were louder now, and Virgil though he could make out Emile’s voice. 

_ Lock the doors. _

Silently, Virgil snuck around the counter, dashing on his hands and knees to the door. He heard slight thumps behind him, so the other boy must be following. The foyer seemed endless, the carpet scratchy under his fingers. 

Finally, they reached the doors, leaning back against the wall beside them and catching their breath. Virgil could understand what the voices were saying now. 

“We saw him go in there!” A rough voice shouted.

“I can assure you,” came Emile’s voice, “that no one has entered the Cineplex today. I haven’t sold any tickets. Now, I am going to have to ask you to leave.”

“What if we want to buy tickets?” A third voice cried. 

“I am denying you service.” Emile’s voice was steady, but Vigil could detect fear in his tone. 

“Fucking son of a bitch,” the first voice growled, and suddenly there was the deafening sound of shattering glass.

The box office. 

Virgil bolted up, rushing to the back door of the cubical. He threw it open, ready to intimidate the vandalizers.

There was blood everywhere. Emile was lying in a pool of the dark red liquid, shattered glass shards stuck into his flesh. More were scattered on the ground, blocking the way to Emile. There was a man, balding with glasses and a red coat, trying to climb through the newly-formed window. Virgil shrieked. He tried to push forward, to get to Emile before this crazy son of a bitch could, but something was holding him back. He screamed again.

Just as the man sunk a box cutter into Emile’s chest. 

The door was shut and locked, and there was a voice talking to him, yelling at him, but he couldn’t focus. 

_ Emile. _

His coworker—his  _ friend  _ was bleeding out in another room, and there was nothing he could do. 

His mind went dark, and that stupid once wouldn’t shut up, but he didn’t care. 

Emile was dead. 

* * *

  
  


It was the scream that snapped him out of it. 

One moment, Patton was trapped in a fuzzy haze, eyes glued to the Tickle-Me-Wiggly dolls lining the shelf in neat rows. He knew he needed one, he knew he was there to get one, but everyone else pushed past him, trampling him. 

He needed the doll. He needed it more than he needed his fingers….

And then the scream.

The sound ringed in his ears, clearing out the fog. He turned, trying to see where it had come from, but there were only people. Massive amounts of people. Swarm...mob...crowd...none of those words felt right to describe the crushing sensation in his lungs. 

He would not let someone get hurt today, not while he was around. He didn’t go to medical school just to ignore someone in pain.

Patton tried to reach for Janus, but the bodies in front of him were unrecognizable. He turned, trying to catch a glimpse of the other man, desperate for anyone sane in the crowd of animals. Something under his foot moved, and he yelped out, looking to the ground beneath him. His breath caught in his throat.

There was a body on the ground, nearly trampled by the foot traffic of the other customers. A red stain spread across their jacket, and a splatter of blood stained their cheek. They were dead, they rolled away from his feet as best they could.

It was Janus. Something clicked in Patton’s mind: Janus was the one who screamed.

Quickly, Patton stooped down, clutching Janus around his shoulders. The other man let out a groan as Patton pulled him up to his feet. His hands were wet and stained red now, but he grit his teeth. He needed to find a secluded space to investigate the wound and fix him right up. An idea formed in his mind, somewhere they could be in peace. 

And if he got the chance to see his crush for a decade shirtless in the process, well, then that was just a pleasant side effect. 

* * *

  
  


Green eyes blinked in the shadows, giving off an ominous glow. He watched the scene before him; the chaos, the tears, the bloodshed.

He loved it. 

Every cry of rage was music to his ears. Every tear shed glittered, reflecting the torment. Every drop of blood wasted would please his master.

Everything was going according to plan. 

Almost.

The Prophet was whisked away from him, injured and without a doll. That certainly wasn’t part of the plan. Now that the parasite (for that’s what the other man must be, something malignant meant to ruin the plan) had taken the Prophet, he may never get him alone to discuss his higher purpose. 

_ Their _ higher purpose.

Then, they could take this world for their own. Then, he would be seen by this entire world.

A hand reached out of the shadows, just as the Prophet, led by that parasite, passed. Delicately, despite the hurried speed the two were leaving in, he reached through the Prophets pocket and took the object inside. 

_ There _ , he thought.  _ Now I have leverage.  _

He could work around this minor setback. He’d wait for the Prophet to heal, and then lead him away. He’d get the plan back on track, like a trolley about to run over so many victims....

His master would be so proud. His master would be here, finally. 

  
He couldn’t wait for the  _ real _ fun to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all so there might not be a chapter next week. I'm super busy with school work and college applications. Hope to see y'all as soon as possible!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed so far! Updates every Sunday.


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